


the art of breaking down

by PowerofFlowers



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Cow Chop - Freeform, Fake Chop, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 07:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PowerofFlowers/pseuds/PowerofFlowers
Summary: Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant is part of the mediocre Los Santos gang, Fake Chop. But on his days off he's a freelancer for the underground scene for those who are truly desperate. Trying to balance both freelancing and full time gang member is easy, but trying to figure out what he actually wants is the hard part.





	the art of breaking down

It wasn’t raining anymore, but the clouds weren’t budging from the dark velvet sky. 

A chill ran over the city as a boy smoking a cigarette couldn’t care less. Smoke raveled through his mouth, escaping from the corners of his mouth before he let it dissipate into the air. One hand balanced the cigarette that was in between his fingers, while the other was shoved into his leather jacket pocket. His body leaned against a brick building that was surrounded by various convenience stores and cars that were passing by without a second thought. 

His mind was up to no good, as he took another drag from his cigarette. The fire sparked reflected in his dark brown eyes as he inhaled another hit of nicotine. Even though he just looked like another kid loitering in the streets of Los Santos, he was so much more. Twenty-six years old and counting, his attitude and personality cast a character that had seen more than anyone should at his age. 

“Aleksandr?” A desperate voice approached him.

“I prefer Aleks, but close enough,” He spoke with a casual tone. 

“I need your help … I have the money,” he lowered his voice as he inched closer. 

“Fine,” Aleksandr dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot.

He gestured towards the man inquiring about Aleksandr’s services to follow him into the door that he was leaning against. There were no signs of life in the abandoned building, except for a desk in the middle of the room. Multiple monitors were resting on top of an old brown desk, with colorful wires spilling out into the computers that were below the desk. 

The one thing that the man couldn’t take his eyes off was the giant hole in the second floor. His eyes explored the exposed second floor, where it was equally deserted. The windows were boarded up and the brick walls were scribbled with graffiti. It was obvious that the only place Aleksandr got work done was on the scarce first floor.

“Eyes over here,” Aleks gestured the man towards his setup. The stranger followed behind like a lost puppy dog. “So what are you looking for today? Are you looking for a shipment or for something a little more discreet?”

“It’s just …,” he paused, thinking how to word what he wanted. “I need you to look after someone-“

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Aleks interrupted. “I’m not a babysitter, I think you got the wrong person.”

“I promise its not like that!” The man spoke defensively. “It’s my sister, I think she’s in serious trouble with some very bad people. I think someone put a hit out on her. I just need someone to make sure that she’s going to be okay and figure out who did it.”

“Before I can believe this, I’m going to need some serious proof before I put some serious effort into this,” he kept his relaxed tone in check.

The man quickly rummaged through his bag, pulling out a small white gift box with a red bow hastily tied up. Aleks raised an eyebrow with his piqued curiosity as he accepted the box.

“This arrived last week addressed to my sister. I found it first … and didn’t show her,” the man handed over the box. Aleks didn’t hesitate, he hastily threw the ribbon off and picked up the lid.

An awful stench arose from the sealed box into the air around them. When he looked down at the box, a cleanly cut finger stared back at him. The finger had a heart drawn in dried blood on the fingernail and “love ya” written next to the dislocated finger. 

“Okay, I see where you’re coming from now,” he admitted as he put the lid back on the box.

“I have enough money for a few weeks … after that I’ll be able to figure out whatever I need to do,” the man’s words weren’t that confidant in his ability, but he did have the money. 

“I’ll take the money now, and keep in contact with you through this,” he pulled a burner phone out from a drawer. “The only number on here is mine and it's the only number you need. If anything happens to this phone, you have to let me know or else I’ll assume you went AWOL and have to hunt you down myself.”

“Oh … Okay,” the man’s heart started pounding a little faster as he grabbed the phone and dropped the bag filled with stacks of cash on Aleks’ desk. 

“Now I just need to know three things about your sister. Who is she? Where does she hang out? Who does she hang out with?”

“I can do that.”


End file.
